Galo is close to the heart for those who live close by. A couple of friends from Town of Mount Royal told me they order the chicken to go all the time — and then hastened to add that they didn’t want me to write about the place in case it gets overrun. Another friend mentioned that it was worth a visit because the owner’s mother makes some mean pasteis de bacalhau, the traditional cod croquettes. Opened in 2007 by Martine Meunier and Tanya Santos, it’s every inch a neighbourhood restaurant — all the more appreciated in a neighbourhood where there aren’t a lot of restaurants.

Portuguese cooking is a good match for pretty much any season in Montreal, but late summer does have an edge. Located on a wide and quiet boulevard, and illuminated by window-paned frontage, Galo’s space is cute and less clamorous than similar establishments in the Plateau. The turnover was constant; families with kids and tired but tanned couples on mid-week dates took turns on the large banquette (so deep I seriously needed a lumbar pillow). The delicious scent of grilled meats and garlic in the air was a cue to expect the expected: There’s a table d’hôte on the chalkboard, a few private imports from the Douro region on the wine list, and a whole bunch of standards on the menu.

There’s not a ton to say about the salad at a typical Portuguese restaurant, and Galo’s generous amount of fresh veg was no different. The hiccup was that the lettuce, cuke, sliced onion and tiny olives were so stuffed into their glass bowl that retrieving a decent forkful was a balancing act. It was impossible to distribute the acetic dressing without distributing them all over the table, and we both gave up after choking on the vinegar. My feeling was that someone stopped paying attention to this course some time ago. There were also those familiar flour-dusted Portuguese buns, which as long as they’re fresh can do no wrong.

Those bacalhau fritters were a worthy pursuit, especially dragged through the hot sauce. Although mom, who we found and queried, said she didn’t have time to make them personally anymore, she assured us the kitchen was well trained in her ways. They triggered the deep-fried pleasure sensors: despite the thickness of the crust, they weren’t greasy, nor too dry. Fluffy with a rugged dose of salt fish flavour, the cod to potato ratio was right on.

Assembling the best of surf and turf, Galo serves mixed seafood platters and meat platters. Even with a surfeit of items on the plate, it was the simplicity that stood out.

Left quite plain, the squid was done in pod form, and cooked to retain some bounciness. An intact sardine was basic and fresh — you wouldn’t want to be doing a whole lot to it. The sweeter shrimp, which came skewered on a stick, could have been cooked less.

Meats were straightforward, too. The item we really coveted was the fresh pink chorizo, chubby sausage flavoured with pimetón, from Chouriçôr butcher shop on de Bullion St.) There were also slices of saucy and salty pork, and pieces of gently smoky chicken lacking juices. I missed some of the intensity and primal wood fire character that demands devouring at some other restos in the Portuguese-centric Plateau. It was initially disappointing that the bird wasn’t served with a little pot of hot sauce; I love basting it on and watching those fierce seeds adhere to the surface. But that bottle of Maçarico brand piripiri kicked some butt: smoky and ripe, it was simultaneously blasting and haunting.

The gentle heating of the natas for dessert could only please. That’s all it takes for these custard tarts to exude creamy warmth.

Celebrating its fifth anniversary, Galo is trustworthy, tried and true, values reflected in its loyal local crowds. I found the meal satisfying, without an extra spark that would send me back across town for more. There simply ought to be more spots like this evenly distributed on choice corners across the city.

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